“Mommy, will you sing the Pooh Bear song? Please?” I begged from underneath the blankets.

My mother crossed the room and stood next to the bed. Tugging the covers off, she began to sing the Pooh Bear theme song, which I so dearly loved. “I gotta get up, I gotta get going, I’m gonna see a friend of mine…. He’s warm and he’s fuzzy, I love him because he’s just…”

“Pooh Bear! Winnie the Pooh Bear!” I popped up, beaming.

“Good morning, Kari! Guess what? You have preschool today, aren’t you excited?” My mother reached down to hug me.

My smile melted into a pout as I edged away from her arms and retreated back to my blanket burrow. No, I wrapped my arms around my chest. No preschool.

“Kari?”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“Kari, get up, please. You’re going to be late for preschool.”

“No.”

“Come on.” I felt the warmth of my flower-dotted comforter vanish as my mother scooped me up.

My vision cleared, allowing my eyes to focus on three golden-haired Barbie dolls lined up on the top of my bureau. Their wide blue eyes and plastic pink smiles seemed to taunt me, reminding me of what was to come.

I turned my frowning face up to my mother, asking her with my eyes to let me stay in my room. Her gaze was unsympathetic.

“Go brush your teeth, Kari.”

Wearily, I dragged myself across the carpet of my room and headed down the hallway to the bathroom. As I swished the bubblegum toothpaste around my mouth, my mother reappeared with my favorite red dress, the one covered with little brown bears.

“How about this one today, Kari?” she smiled.

I shrugged my shoulders and spit the toothpaste out. No dress could make my day at preschool any better. No, not even the Froot Loops at breakfast or the fact that my mother was driving me to school today, instead of my father. All the way there, I twisted the hem of my dress and traced the bears printed on the fabric. I have lots of toys at home, why do I have to go to preschool to play with their toys? Why can’t I just stay home?

The moment the car came to a halt in the parking lot of my preschool, the day suddenly seemed gray. My feet suddenly felt very heavy as I opened the car door and stepped onto the pavement. My mother waved goodbye to me.

“Have lots of fun at preschool today, Kari! Play nicely with your friends.”

I managed a half-hearted smile and waved back. Don’t leave me, Mommy. But the car pulled forward, then joined the rest of the cars rushing down the road.

When I reached the “Blue Rectangle” room, Mrs. Williams came to greet me.

“Kari! I’m so glad you came today. What would you like to do?”

I surveyed the room. Everyone already had a playmate, in the play kitchen, in the Color Corner, in the puzzle section, even in the reading area.

“I don’t know.”

“Hmm, I see Lucy and Kristen over there in the play kitchen area. Maybe they’d like another little girl to join them?” Mrs. Williams suggested.

“Okay.”

I trotted over to the play kitchen, where Lucy and Kristen were occupied with piling all the contents of a drawer into a pot. Every time the pot was full, they’d kick it over and start filling it up again, giggling all the while. I want to play kitchen, but that’s a silly game. I don’t want to make a mess like that. But Mrs. Williams will just tell me to go play this or that if I don’t play with Lucy and Kristen.

“Can I play?”

“We’re playing house,” Lucy informed me. “Kristen is my sister. We’re being bad and making a big huge mess ‘cause our mommy went shopping without us. You can be the mommy, I guess. Go to the supermarket; that’s the Color Corner. Then come back and tell me and Kristen that we’re in lots of trouble.”

I nodded. At least I don’t have to play making a mess. As I stepped towards the Color Corner, however, I overheard a loud whispered protest from Kristen.

“Lucy! I don’t want Kari to play! I don’t want her to be my mommy!”

I froze.

Lucy hissed back, “Kristen, this is pwetend. Kari’s not really our mommy.”

“I don’t care!” Kristen’s voice rose over the preschool hullabaloo. “I don’t like Kari.”

“Why not?”

“I-I just don’t!”

I bit my lip, wondering what to do. Mommy always said to tell her if someone wasn’t being nice. But Mommy’s not here. Maybe I should tell Mrs. Williams. Before I could move, a voice stopped me.

“Hi Kari.”

There, in the Color Corner, sat Sarah, fingerpainting with Evan. Pink slashes, blue smears, green streaks, and yellow marks coated the paper they shared. I want to fingerpaint. . . but do I want to paint with Sarah? An image of Sarah ordering me about in the play kitchen as her “maid” last week came to mind. But Sarah can be nice sometimes…

Shyly, I approached Sarah. “Sarah, can I paint with you?”

“No. I’m painting with Evan today so I can’t paint with you. I’m his mommy. He’s my baby. I’m taking care of him so I gotta teach him stuff. He wants to fingerpaint so I’m showing him. He doesn’t know how to do it yet ‘cause he’s a baby.”

I chewed my lip. “Can I be your other baby?”

“No! You can’t be my other baby.”

“Why not?”

“I-I just want one baby. . . and I pick Evan ‘cause he looks like my baby brother. ‘sides… you talk kinda funny sometimes.” Sarah’s eye landed on a pair of girls hovered over a princess puzzle. “Go play with someone else. How ‘bout Michelle and Tara?”

I sighed as I drew near Michelle and Tara.

“Can I help?”

Michelle ignored my request, but Tara looked up. “Sure.”

I picked up a piece and attached it to the jagged end where they were still working. Michelle added another piece, then Tara, then me, and so on. Finally, when there was only one piece left, I stretched my hand across the table for it, only to have Michelle snatch it from my outstretched fingertips.

“I got it!” Michelle announced, as she triumphantly pushed the last piece in place.

I opened my mouth to protest, but Tara interrupted me.

“Look at these princesses, Michelle!” squealed Tara. “They’re so beeyootiful. I like this one very best. I’m going to be this one when I grow up.”

“She’s not pretty. This one’s more prettier. I’m going to be her.” Michelle jabbed a chubby finger at another princess.

“Kari, you can be this one.” Tara pointed to the last. I looked where her finger rested, on a slender blond girl arrayed in royal blue and gold.

“No she can’t!” exclaimed Michelle.

“Why not?”

“Tara,” Michelle rolled her eyes and wrinkled her nose at me. “Look at this princess. See? I can be this princess, but not Kari. Kari will never look like that princess, not in a gazillion years!”

I stared at Michelle, then Tara, who was speechless. I could feel my face growing hot so I fled to the other side of the room. I flopped down in the corner filled with oversized stuffed animals and curled my knees up to my chest. Michelle’s a meanie, I thought to myself as I blinked back the tingling feeling in my eyes.

I gazed down at my crimson Mary Janes, then turned my head, pressing my ear against the face of my Pooh Bear watch. I knew I should have stayed home today. The steady ticking of the watch comforted me, and slowly, I fell asleep, curled up among the stuffed animals.

***
Someone tapped me gently. I blinked, raised my face, and found myself eye-to-eye with Mrs. Williams.

“Kari dear, it’s time to go home. Your mother’s waiting for you.”

***
I leaned my head against the edge of my carseat and watched the telephone poles and trees flash by. Why can’t I be a princess like Michelle and Tara? Why don’t I have any friends? Why doesn’t anybody at preschool like me? Suddenly, the car stopped.

“Kari, I’m going to take a quick look around this craft fair before we go home.” My mother released me from my carseat.

As she guided me through rows and rows of booths, the sleek toys carved from wood, the brilliant hues of paintings, the smiling faces of rag dolls, and the tinkling wind chimes blotted out any thoughts of preschool.

My mother paused in front of a booth overflowing with dolls. “Kari, would you like one of these dolls? Ohhh, look at this one, she’s got such a cute face. Just like my Kari. Would you like this one?”

I stared at the doll for a moment. Yes… this doll did resemble me with her smooth, pale skin and dark hair. But did I want a doll like that? I shook my head. Instead, I reached for another doll with blond hair and blue eyes, freckles splayed across her face.

“This one.”

My mother squinted at the doll, then frowned. “Are you sure, Kari? You already have many dolls like that one at home.”

I brushed the black-haired doll’s cheek with my fingertip, then looked back at the blond doll in my hand. Her freckles and clear blue eyes seemed, at that moment, to be both beautiful and intimidating. I set the blond doll back on the display and reached for the black-haired doll, then stopped. Memories of the day’s events came flooding back as I remembered Kristen’s indignant cry, Sarah’s feeble explanation, and Michelle’s superior remark.

“No. I want this doll.” I snatched up the little blond girl.

“All right, Kari…”
***

I refused to loosen my grip around the doll until I reached my room. I was about to pull my dress over my head and change into play clothes, when I glimpsed my reflection in the mirror. I turned towards the little girl in the mirror. This little girl didn’t look anything like my new doll. This little girl had smooth, white skin, unblemished by any marks. She had dark chocolate-colored eyes, which tapered off at the outer edges, and straight, silky black hair which stopped just below her chin.

I picked up the doll my mother had just bought for me at the fair. I scrutinized the freckles, the round blue eyes, the long, wavy blonde hair of the doll, and was suddenly filled with a sadness and an anger I could not explain. I set her on the bureau with the Barbie dolls. It was no use. This little doll wasn’t me. It could never be me. This little doll looked like Lucy, Kristen, Sarah, Michelle, Tara, any of the little girls in my preschool, but not me.

I dove beneath my bed and groped about until my fingers brushed a plastic box. It had only been packed away for a few months – ever since I started preschool – yet already a fine layer of dust coated it. Opening it, I pulled out a single doll. Lily. Her rich red cheongsam, her shimmering black hair, even her serene half smile set her apart from the rest of my dolls, which stared vacantly down from my bureau.

***
That night, I set Lily on my bed, then climbed in myself. As I pulled the covers up to my chin, I spotted my new doll from the fair sitting on my bureau. Her wide, unblinking eyes watched as I snuggled into my blankets and breathed in the reassuring lavender scent of my sheets, before stretching one protective arm over Lily.